


Rewind

by MaryPSue



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS, billford if you squint, dead dove do not eat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:11:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryPSue/pseuds/MaryPSue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I REMEMBER WHEN YOU WORSHIPPED ME!” Bill threatens, but his heart’s not in it.</p><p>Stanford’s gaze is steady, disappointed. “I remember when you were worth worshipping.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> Based, of course, on that infamous promo scene.

“I won’t give you what you want, Bill,” Stanford says. He sounds tired. He _looks_  tired. Maybe it’s the weight of all those years, all those harrowing years of surviving on sheer determination and spite, all those things he should never have had to see, never have had to  _do_.

Maybe it’s just because Bill hasn’t let him sleep. Well, why do these stupid fleshbags need so much rest anyway? Stanford never used to spend so much time with his eyes shut doing nothing!

“AH, COME ON, FORDSY, I HAVEN’T EVEN ASKED YET!” Honestly, Bill hadn’t been planning to. Stanford’s stubbornness has only gotten worse over the years, it’ll take longer than  _this_  to wear him down. Bill is mostly here to drink and gloat. But now that it’s on the table… “IS IT REALLY SO MUCH TO ASK? ONE TINY FAVOUR, AND THEN WE LET BYGONES BE BYGONES! I’LL EVEN FORGIVE YOU FOR SHOOTING HOLES IN ME! AND THAT’S ALL YOU REALLY WANT, RIGHT? SOMETHING MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU TO TELL YOU IT’S OKAY, YOU’RE FORGIVEN?”

Stanford hangs his head as best he can with the chain holding him in place. Bill takes a moment to admire what a good job he did there. Restraint _and_  indignity in one! With all his pride, Stanford should be willing to do just about anything to get out of being leashed like one of those yappy little domesticated canines. Bill takes a long sip of his time-punch-margarita hybrid and idly considers giving Stanford a scritch behind the ears.

But where once Stanford would have been yapping away (betrayal! Trust! Friendship! Common human decency!  _Hilarious_ ), instead, he’s just silent.  _Boooooring_. 

“HEY, WHAT’S A GUY GOTTA DO TO GET A NEGOTIATION STARTED HERE?” Really, Stanford’s being pretty unreasonable. Isn’t the foundation of every good relationship compromise? Or is that complete dominance? Bill can never keep those two straight. “LOOK, I’LL EVEN SWEETEN THE DEAL FOR YA! YOU TELL ME WHAT I WANNA KNOW, AND YOUR LITTLE ‘FAMILY’ WON’T GET EATEN RIGHT AWAY! HECK, I’M FEELING GENEROUS, I MIGHT EVEN LET THEM KEEP TWO OR THREE OF THEIR LIMBS! YOU CAN PICK WHICH ONES, IF YOU WANT!”

Bill remembers when this would’ve had Stanford screaming defiance in his eye. Instead, Stanford just heaves a sigh, all the anger pent up and locked away in the glare he turns on Bill. “You’re not getting anything out of me, Bill. We both know you’re nothing but a liar.” His head drops again. “For all I know, they’re all already dead.”

Well, that won’t do. Bill doesn’t like this defeated tone, it doesn’t suit Stanford in the slightest. Where’s the passion? Where’s the  _hate_?

He swoops in closer, trying and failing not to spill his drink, tucking a finger under Stanford’s chin and forcing his head up, forcing him to look Bill in the eye. “WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU, HUH? YOU DIDN’T USED TO BE SUCH A BUZZKILL! REMEMBER HOW MUCH FUN WE USED TO HAVE?”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to remind me - would that have been thirty years ago, when you violated not only my mind and body but my trust and goodwill, or are you talking about a few hours ago, when you turned me into an inanimate object and used me as a backscratcher?”

Bill wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. Now they’re getting somewhere. “HAHA, YEAH! CLASSIC SIXER!" 

He’s hoping for a little more of that sarcasm, but all Bill gets is more stony silence. Well, drat. Bill’s just about emptied out his usual bag of tricks, and he’s too tipsy and filled with ill-defined malaise to dream up any good new ones. And if Stanford’s going to be like this, well, he doesn’t deserve them anyway.

Right on cue, Stanford says, "Face it, Bill. I know you too well. I’m not falling for any of your old tricks.” His voice goes quiet, and what little fire had still been lurking in it trickles out as he adds, “I’m never falling for y- anything you say, ever again.”

That’s it. Bill’s sick and tired of this. He’d really thought coming here, tossing a few insults and crippling emotional blows back and forth with his favourite punching bag, would be just the thing to lift his spirits, but it’s just not happening. Thirty years have changed Stanford. Made him old, and stoic, and a little soft around the middle.

And  _boring_.

“I REMEMBER WHEN YOU WORSHIPPED ME!” Bill threatens, but his heart’s not in it.

Stanford’s gaze is steady, disappointed. “I remember when you were worth worshipping.”

Bill throws his glass at the wall. It smashes, spattering pretty purple glitter in long streaks down the wall, eating through the atoms making up the fearamid, returning them to whatever state they’d been in before Bill graciously allowed them the opportunity to make up his pad. Stanford flinches away, gets hauled up short by the collar, a splash of purple dissolving into the sleeve of his coat and rewinding the wear and tear out of existence. Bill swallows a curse, reminds himself never to let Amorphous Shape near the bar again. A mixed drink that temporally unstable could give him a  _serious_  case of indiges-

Bill stops. He looks at the splatter on the wall. Looks at the shiny new patch in the wear and grime on Stanford’s sleeve.

Looks at the grey in Stanford’s hair, the fine, weary lines around Stanford’s eyes.

“I’M GETTING ANOTHER DRINK,” Bill announces, unnecessarily. “DON’T YOU GO ANYWHERE!”

…

“Wha- Bill!” Stanford gasps, his eyes wide and wild behind the lenses of his glasses, a trickle of time punch still glittering down his chin. He jerks backwards away from Bill, like he actually thinks he has a chance to escape, it’s almost cute, and his eyes go even wider when the end of the chain yanks him up short. He scrabbles at the collar without taking his eyes from Bill’s single one, and Bill basks in the attention. Now  _this_  is what he’s talking about.

The anger in Stanford’s voice is barely controlled, raw and raging and not quite enough to cover the fear as he tugs at the glowing collar. “Why am I in chains? What’s going on? What did you do to me?”

“RELAX, SIXER!” Bill laughs, leaning down to run a hand through Stanford’s dark hair, feeling himself glowing brighter in delight when he doesn’t find the upraised ridge of scar tissue underneath. This was a  _great_  idea, one of his best, even if he hasn’t gone quite far enough back yet, and even then, wow, it’s a blast to see the kid all torn up again like Bill had just betrayed him for the very first time! Even now Stanford’s trying so hard not to react, but Bill can tell he just wants to lean into the touch - but he won’t let himself, because Bill 'used him’ or some other ridiculous thing that he’s probably going to be yelling about in a second! This is great! “LET’S JUST SAY I TOOK A LOAD OFF OF YA! DON’T WORRY, YOU’RE GETTING THIS ONE FREE OF CHARGE! AFTER ALL, WE’RE SUCH GOOD PALS!”

“You’re not my friend, Bill! And you - you never were!”  _There_  it is. The instantaneous outburst, the regret, the fire - Bill’s surprised to find himself actually tearing up a little. He’s missed this. He’s really missed this. Or maybe that’s the margaritas talking.

Still, Bill leans in, until Stanford shrinks back, probably not even realising he’s doing it. “REALLY? PRETTY SURE I’M YOUR  _ONLY_  FRIEND!”

Stanford spits in Bill’s eye.

Bill pulls back, sputtering as he wipes at his eye, but the sputtering quickly turns to laughter. “HEY, NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT! GLAD TO KNOW YOU STILL CARE!” He leans down, wrapping an arm companionably around Stanford’s shoulders just to watch Stanford tense up, try not to relax, try not to react when Bill drums his fingers against the collar. “GOTTA SAY, I WAS GETTING WORRIED THERE FOR A MINUTE OR TWO! THOUGHT MAYBE I WASN’T THE CENTRE OF YOUR UNIVERSE ANYMORE!”

“Of course you’re not, Bill, you -”

“- USED YOU, BETRAYED YOU, I KNOW, I KNOW! BUT HEY!” Bill pinches Stanford’s cheek, waves a hand to shift the walls of the fearamid so that they can both see the rift torn in the sky outside. “CAN’T SAY I EVER LIED TO YOU! YOU AND ME, KID! CHANGED THE WORLD!”

“What?” Stanford resumes struggling against the collar, even though it’s so obviously futile that Bill wants to laugh again. There’s naked panic in his voice as he pulls against the chain, even as he gasps for air around the collar. “No! I - I tore it all down, Fiddleford was gone, even with my body you couldn’t have done it alone - I would never -”

Bill pats him on the shoulder. “GUESS WHAT? YOU DID!”

“No. This is - this is another nightmare, is what this is!” It’s adorable, how proud of himself Stanford sounds, so sure he’s figured it out, so relieved and hopeful. “None of this is real! I can’t believe I nearly fell for it!”

“YEAH, YOU JUST KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT, KIDDO!” Bill says, giving Stanford’s cheek another pinch. It’s harder than necessary - not that it’s impossible to feel pain in dreams, or think you feel pain, but it’ll be a nice sharp reminder anyway. Plus, he likes the way Stanford flinches. 

Stanford nearly cracks his head on the wall as he jerks away from Bill, and Bill can’t stifle a chuckle. He’d almost forgotten how touchy Stanford was, how exaggerated all his reactions were. Bill ignores the look of horror on Stanford’s face, the way he strains at the collar trying to pull away as Bill swoops in close, pressing a hand to either side of Stanford’s face and forcing Stanford to meet his single eye. He feigns disappointment when he says, “AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR YOU, THIS IS REALLY THE THANKS I GET? WAY TO MAKE A GUY FEEL WANTED!”

Stanford wavers - as he should, as far as he knows Bill’s been his best friend and confidante for the last five years, this is  _awesome_ , best idea Bill’s had since the Great Pyramid or maybe Toblerone - then visibly composes himself, shutting his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath before he meets Bill’s single eye again, determination in his gaze. “I’m not thanking you for destroying my life and, by the looks of it, my entire world!”

“OH, YOU’RE TOO SWEET! BUT I CAN’T TAKE ALL THE CREDIT!” Bill lets go of Stanford’s face and swoops out of the way so that Stanford can see the rift again, giving Stanford a hearty pat on the back that sends him reeling just for good measure. “NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT THE THIRTY-ODD LONG YEARS YOU PUT INTO MAKING IT A REALITY!”

“Thirty-odd…? But I’m only - !” Wow. If this is how long it takes IQ to put together a few simple clues, Bill’s not surprised it’s taken nearly forty years to get his apocalypse up and running. Sheesh. Those Pines twins, peas in a pod! Won’t see what’s under their own oversized, bulbous noses! 

Although, if Bill thought he’d seen Stanford horrified  _before_ , he’s rethinking that now. He’d missed his chance to see the look on Stanford’s face the first time Stanford had figured out he’d been tricked, but this almost makes up for it.

Bill’s half-expecting yelling, but Stanford’s voice is low and hushed as he demands, “Bill, what did you do to me?”

“HEY, I ALREADY TOLD YA! TOOK A WEIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS!” True. Some of those memories had really been dragging the old guy down. Really, Bill’s done him a  _huge_  favour. “YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME, FORDSY! TRUST ME, YOU WON’T BE MISSING THOSE YEARS!”

“Y- Bill, you took  _years_  off my life?”

“TECHNICALLY, I ADDED THEM BACK ON!” Man oh man does Bill wish he had a way to freeze Stanford’s expression like this for the rest of - oh wait, he does. He raises his hand, but stops just before snapping his fingers. Sure, this expression of abject despair is cute, but if he freezes Stanford’s face, he’ll only be depriving himself of all the other great expressions Stanford can make. And he still hasn’t gotten any answers from Stanford about how to lower the - 

-  _right_. The barrier. The whole point.

“YEAH, I KNOW, I’M A GREAT, THOUGHTFUL GUY, PROBABLY THE BEST FRIEND YOU’VE GOT RIGHT NOW,” Bill says dismissively, but before he can get to the meat of his request, Stanford interrupts.  _Rude_.

“How would I know?” Stanford’s laugh is hollow, defeated. Well, that’s no good. Didn’t Bill rewind him just to avoid exactly this? “If I had made any other friends, I wouldn’t remember them now.” He looks down at his hands, like he’s seeing them for the first time, and his expression goes dark as he clenches them into fists.

“YEAH, WELL, DON’T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF, SMART GUY!” Bill says, circling Stanford’s head. Come on, kid,  _react_. “HATE TO BREAK IT TO YA, BUT YOU DON’T HAVE MANY MORE FANS RIGHT NOW THAN YOU DID THE LAST TIME WE TALKED LIKE THIS!”

Stanford just clenches his jaw and glares at the floor.

“YOU COULD USE A FEW FRIENDS, HONESTLY,” Bill says, in the closest he can manage to a coo, leaning in close to Stanford’s ear. “AND LUCKY FOR YOU, I’M A VERY FORGIVING PARALLELOGRAM! ALL I’D NEED FROM YOU IS ONE TIIIINY LITTLE FAVOUR -”

“No more favours,” Stanford grinds out. He finally looks up at Bill, and his eyes are all shiny. Weird! “I’m never doing anything for  _you_  again.”

At least the way he spits the word ‘you’ is still full of the old venom.

“FINE!” Bill says, coming to a decision. He pulls back, giving Stanford space. Stanford nearly topples over, like he’d been leaning against Bill to stay upright and the sudden absence of Bill has left him helpless.

“Fine?” he asks, blinking owlishly behind his glasses, clearly suspicious. So maybe he’s not  _totally_  hopeless!

“YEAH! FINE!” Bill crosses his arms, tilts slightly to one side. “IF YOU WON’T DO IT, THEN I KNOW A GUY WHO WILL! OR MAYBE I SHOULD SAY  _KNEW_  A GUY?”

For a guy who takes so long to catch on, it doesn’t take Stanford any time at all to put this one together.

…

“Bill?” Stanford adjusts his glasses, staring around him with wide, wondering eyes. “What’s going on?” He notices the collar, picks up the glowing chain and peers at it with more fascination than fear. “Why am I in chains?”

“OH, YEAH, THAT.” Bill hadn’t really thought this far. “SOME LOSERS KIDNAPPED YOU TO GET TO ME!”

“Really?” Sheesh, the kid actually sounds excited. Ah well. So long as Stanford keeps looking at him with that expression, Bill doesn’t care what stupid stuff comes out of his mouth. “Who -”

“WHO KNOWS? WHO CARES? IMPORTANT GUY LIKE ME, I’VE GOT A LOT OF ENEMIES!”

Stanford adjusts his glasses, raising one eyebrow. “Somehow I’d never imagined a muse having enemies.”

“EVERYBODY WHO’S ANYBODY HAS ENEMIES, KID! THAT’S HOW YOU KNOW YOU’RE HAVING AN EFFECT!” Bill swoops in, wrapping an arm around Stanford’s shoulders, noticing with quiet pride the way Stanford smiles - just a little, like he doesn’t realise he’s doing it - and leans in towards Bill. Man, Bill really did a good job here. “THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW! WHAT’S IMPORTANT IS GETTING YOU OUT OF HERE IN ONE PIECE!”

“Getting  _both_  of us out of here safe,” Stanford gently corrects Bill. “What do we need to do?”

“OH, IT’LL BE PRETTY SIMPLE, THESE LUNKHEADS CAN’T KEEP US HERE FOREVER,” Bill says, with a dismissive wave of his hand, before he adds, “EVEN THOUGH THEY GAVE IT THE OL’ COLLEGE TRY! I KNEW THIS WAS A TRAP THE MINUTE I STEPPED INSIDE, AND I WAS RIGHT! THERE’S SOME KINDA INVISIBLE BARRIER UP ALL AROUND THIS PLACE, AND I CAN’T GET BACK THROUGH!”

“You knew it was a trap, and you still came for me?” Stanford asks. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Bill once, and Bill beams a little brighter. Vitriol is nice, really nice, but he’d started to miss being properly worshipped.

“SURE DID, SIXER!” Bill winks - well, blinks, stupid bifocals have the advantage on that front, he’ll concede that much - and Stanford’s ears turn pink. “NOW WE HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET OUT OF HERE AGAIN! SHOULDN’T TAKE LONG - YOUR BRAINS, MY BEAUTY AND UNIMAGINABLE POWER…”

“Of course not.” Stanford leans over, scribbling in the dust and debris on the floor with one finger, already lost in thought. “Invisible barriers - I think I’ve read a little about these, there are a few possibilities for the point of generation…”

“YOU’RE A PEACH!” Bill says, sitting back and watching Stanford work. A thought strikes him, and he adds, quickly, “YOU KNOW, SOME OF THESE PEOPLE - WHOEVER THEY ARE - ARE PROBABLY GOING TO TRY TO CONVINCE YOU THEY’RE YOUR FAMILY. THEY’RE LYING, OF COURSE! THEY TRIED THE SAME TRICK ON ME! STUPID! I DON’T HAVE ANY FAMILY!”

There’s an almost uncomfortable amount of sympathy in Stanford’s expression when he looks up at Bill. Bill almost feels sorry for him, for a split second. Thankfully, it passes.

Stanford is quiet for a few seconds, scratching in the dirt, before he says, “Bill? Thank you for coming for me.”

Bill shrugs as best he can - which is pretty well, his shoulders aren’t really all that solidly attached to any one spot. “WHAT’RE BEST FRIENDS FOR?”

The smile that Stanford turns up at Bill is glowing, and Bill thinks, warmly:  _I remember when you worshipped me._

“I’m very lucky to have a friend like you,” Stanford says.


End file.
